Harry Potter and the Book in the Corridor
by North A. Harbor
Summary: The war has begun. The wizarding world knows of Voldemort's return. Yet Harry Potter is stuck back at the Dursleys facing a summer that's turning out almost as worst as the last...


_Harry Potter  
and the  
Book in the Corridor_  
By: North  
  
C H A P T E R O N E  
  
Owls and Unfriendly Neighbors  
  
A small breeze whistled gently through an open window of number 4 Privet Drive. The breeze carried itself throughout the smallest bedroom on the second floor and curled around the bedposts. Papers layered the floor and pages of opened books turned eerily as though invisible hands were flipping through them carelessly. The normally loud and busy house of number 4 was deafeningly quiet and the silence vibrated throughout the hazy mist that inhabited the smallest upstairs bedroom. A skinny boy with hair too wild to be dealt with was the only living creature in this seemingly deserted house and he happened to be at this moment pacing back and forth deep in thought. The boy kept running a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that fell in his face to reveal a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Blurry objects moved in and out of Harry Potter's line of vision but he didn't care; he had purposely not put on his glasses that morning because he found it easier to concentrate without constantly looking out the window for a sign of Hedwig, his snowy white owl.  
Though still thin for his age, Harry had filled out a bit since last year. He had taken to eating more and often went for breath-taking runs late at night when the streets of Privet Drive were desolate and dark. He ate for energy and ran to relieve tension Ever since the return of Lord Voldemort, Harry had felt more alive, more animated then ever before. He expected that as soon as he had returned to the Dursleys, he would find himself in dangerous situations almost immediately. Yet weeks had passed and his birthday had come and nothing had happened. Nothing had occurred, save the invitations sent around the neighborhood summoning the residents to attend the Annual Gardening Contest. Naturally, everyone on Privet Drive became excited and now they were long gone. A few dogs barked in the distance and Harry felt a shiver of loneliness. He felt bitter and isolated for as far as he could tell, this summer was ending up just like the last one had. All this pent up energy needed to be used. It was driving him mad, pacing back and forth, thinking pointlessly of things he could be doing to delay Voldemort while his mind just buzzed blankly. He kept waiting, waiting with rising tension, for something to happen: an attack, a murder, an explosion, the sounds of shouts and screams. All these four weeks, he had paced his bedroom, wand in hand, ready, read to jump at the smallest sign of Voldemort's return. But he heard nothing. Even the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, was confused. Articles written over and over again were asking if Voldemort had returned, why hadn't he done something already? Triumphant people were writing letters to the Prophet eager to show that they had been right: Voldemort had not returned and Dumbledore was, indeed, going senile. Harry didn't even bother controlling his anger at these ignorant fools. He knew they'd see some Dark Side action, but he just didn't know when.  
Terminating his impatient antics, he seized his glasses off his bedside table, set them on the bridge of his nose, and paused at the window. With his hands on the windowsill, he leaned out, staring around the abandoned streets, wondering at the strangeness of it all. The clouds hung low in the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance. An occasional flash of lightning made the whole neighborhood appear rotten and isolated.  
_What a day to go to an outdoor flower contest_, he thought scathingly, scratching his right temple crossly. He felt strangely itchy.  
A sudden movement caught his eye and he jerked his head to the left to catch it. From behind a set of bushes on Number 7's front lawn, a hunter green rubbish bin had fallen over and was rolling slowly, almost idly, down the street before it bumped into the curb and stopped, still swaying lightly in the wind. Harry squinted into the mist before he saw something that made his heart leap. He glanced by the bushes again to make sure he hadn't mistaken the distinct swish of a cloak. He had seen it briefly; the black hem of a wizard's cloak before it vanished behind the bushes. Harry wrenched himself from the window, pulling back quickly before forcing himself to look again. This time he saw a tall, dark figure dashing across Number 7's lawn and evaporating behind the house.  
_This is it_, he told himself almost hopefully. _It's beginning_.  
With wand in hand, Harry strode toward the door, bent over to observe the lock and it swung open. He stepped quickly and nimbly down the stairs and out the front door. The hot, humid air struck him full force and he ended up swallowing a mouthful and started choking. Grasping his chest with his left hand, he steadied himself. In the distance lightning sliced through the sky like a knife. Without caring about being seen, he bolted across the empty street toward the Number 7. Number 7's small garden of hydrangeas bowed as he stepped up onto them to give him a head start. His ratty trainers were starting to feel lose around his feet and Harry felt a surge of frustration and bitterness as the laces became entangled in the hydrangeas' branches. He tripped, twisted and landed with a sickening crunch onto the grass. Harry's elbows scraped the pavement that made up the driveway and his glasses flew from his face and crashed several feet away. He groaned in an effort to pull away from the bushes but they seemed to clinging onto his feet. Giving up for the moment, Harry lay there, breathing deeply. What was it that he had seen? Or rather, who was it? Was he not as alone as he had thought? Perhaps someone was feeling ill and didn't feel up to attending the Annual Gardening Contest.  
"Right, and I'm a house-elf," Harry said out loud, relieved to hear his voice in working order. His heart was still hammering madly in his chest and he resumed working on getting his shoelaces untangled though he could hardly see without his glasses. Resigned to using a leaf to cut his shoelaces, he gave up again and leaned back on his hands, staring at the mess of knots and twigs in front of him. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit there, especially when the residents of Number 7 came home. He twisted around so that he was lying on his stomach and his ankles screamed in pain at being strained at such a bad angle. He reached, stretched his fingers as far as they would go until he felt the rim of his glasses. Harry attempted to clamp his fingers down on the rim, but they flipped and landed even farther away.  
"Come on," he urged. "Come on...just a little further..." Harry was breathing hard and his teeth were gritted as he pulled and dragged his entire body forward. His ragged clothes stuck to the pavement and tore as he drove himself toward his glasses.  
"Almost there," he repeated to himself, stretching his fingers till they ached. "Almost—"  
Just then his feet fell to the pavement with a dull thud. Stiff pain bolted through his toes and up his legs. Without thinking about the pain and only thinking about the cloaked figure, Harry crawled onward, snatched up his glasses, put them on and spun around to see what had happened to his feet. But before he had completely turned around, he spotted a wispy white shadow lurking just out of the corner of his eye. He held his breath as he turned to face the shadow and saw familiar brown eyes. Cedric waved at him and Harry wanted to cry out but as soon as he had opened his mouth to utter a word, Cedric smiled and walked on and vanished behind a tree. Harry stared awkwardly at where Cedric had just been...but no, that couldn't be. Cedric Diggory was dead. Harry had seen Lord Voldemort murder him in his fourth year. Just then he became aware of the aching pain in his back from resting at such an uncomfortable position so he turned back to stare at his shoes. He'd think about the Cedric apparition later. Right. My shoes. The first suspicion that crossed his mind was that somebody had untied his shoelaces from the branches while he was reaching for his glasses. But that didn't make sense. It would have taken some time to undo all those knots. He would've felt it. He would've known.  
Frowning, Harry leaned toward his feet and grasped the shoelaces between his fingers. Sure enough, the shoelaces looked as though someone had taken a pair of scissors and sliced right through them, freeing him from the branches. Harry ran the tips of his fingers over the sliced ends and then yanked his hand back. The ends were hot. Nursing a finger in his mouth, he struggled to his feet and glanced around immediately for the culprit. He saw no one. And it couldn't have been anyone magical, could it? He hadn't heard the familiar crack! of someone disapparating. Whoever it had been had left rather quickly, and Harry, having seen no hint of the direction the person could have escaped to, was left feeling utterly lost. Who would help him? As far as could be known, he was only the only current inhabitant of Privet Drive.  
"Someone just came early, saw that I was stuck and helped me out," Harry reassured himself, but all the while kept his wand ready and his eyes wide for any clue, no matter how subtle. And if they were only trying to help him, they might have said something, asked him if he was all right.  
_No one on this street gives a rat's arse about me_, he thought sourly and instantly felt ashamed. Mrs. Arabella Figg, the cat woman who lived over on Wisteria Walk, cared about him. And he had loved ones in the wizarding world. Still eager to find the cloaked figure, Harry followed a side path around Number Seven and glanced into the backyard. As far as he could tell, there was no one. However, the rusted, ugly green swings swung back and forth, creating creaking sounds that reminded him horribly of nails on a chalkboard. Harry watched the swings for a moment, feeling slightly nauseous. With sagging shoulders, he stalked back across the street, opened the front door and trudged inside. Without the lights on and without the TV blasting in the living room or the radio singing in the kitchen, the house seemed oddly fake. Harry felt he could almost hear Aunt Petunia bustling around making dinner and setting the table or Uncle Vernon humming as he read the newspaper. A shiver trickled down Harry's spine as he meandered toward the refrigerator. He was hungry and after glancing at the clock, he realized the Dursleys probably wouldn't be home for another four or five hours. It was only 1 o'clock in the afternoon, but it seemed as though time were passing faster above the clouds.  
Harry opened the fridge and peered in. Not having a taste for anything in there, he went over to the cupboards, opening them two at a time. He found a loaf of bread and pulled it out, unwrapped it and took out a slice and dropped it in the toaster.  
Depression rose over him. What had he done to deserve such despondency as this? He had done what Mad-Eye had told him to do the previous year: he had written to Ron and Hermione almost every single day. Yet each time Hedwig came back empty-clawed. Hadn't Ron and Hermione told him they'd see him really soon? _How soon was soon anyway_? It was already July 31st and no one had written him. He had had an incredible urge to do what he had always wanted to do for the past three summers: tie his trunk to his broomstick, cast a spell on the trunk to make it lighter and while wearing his Invisibility Cloak, set off toward a place of familiarity and excitement and action. And what about that Cedric apparition? Was he going mad?  
The toast suddenly popped up and Harry jumped from his chair to retrieve it. He had the jitters. Someone was watching him and he hated that feeling. He scoured the empty house for a moment, eyes darting from window to window anxiously until he decided to go back upstairs. Pausing in the hallway by the door, he took a deep breath and took a leap at the stairs, jumping them three or four at a time till he reached the upstairs hall. Then he raced into his bedroom and shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Oh yeah, he was definitely panicking. Blowing out a big puff of air, he flopped over on his bed and lay there, glaring at the ceiling as he nibbled his toast thoughtfully.  
The question was why had nothing happened yet? Voldemort was back. The Ministry of Magic knew, the entire wizarding knew, so what he was waiting for? Voldemort was the darkest wizard of his time. He had committed countless murders until he tried to kill Harry. After succeeding in murdering his parents, Lord Voldemort turned his wand on Harry, who had been one at the time. Something about him stopped the Dark Lord and the curse that was cast was reflected back on its caster. The Dark Lord fled, barely alive. Harry went to live with his three remaining relatives: Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and their son Dudley. They were the worst people to live with. They hated Harry and the magical crowd that he was part of. When Harry found out he was a wizard, his Aunt and Uncle tried in vain to stop him from going to Hogwarts, one of the best schools of witchcraft and wizardry in Europe. Harry found that when he entered the wizarding world, people everywhere knew his name, because it was he who had stopped the Dark Lord. But now Voldemort was back and Harry had believed that disaster would strike right away. Four weeks had passed and nothing had happened. Nothing whatsoever.  
He was about to roll over and try to sleep when a loud screeching noise echoed throughout the room. He hastened to his feet and scoured his room for the source of the noise. Not one, but three owls had entered his room. Harry recognized his own snowy owl, Hedwig, who dropped a huge bundle on his bed and settled herself on top of her cage hooting in a satisfied sort of way. The second owl was one of the school tawny screech owls and it, too, dropped a parcel on his bed, hooted at Hedwig almost affectionately and took off through the open window. Harry raised his eyebrows at Hedwig who just stared back at him innocently. The third owl was zooming around his room, hooting shrilly. It was small and extraordinarily fluffy.  
"Get down here, Pig!" Harry shouted, hopping up and down, trying to grab the overly excited creature. His fingers snatched at the parcel and it fell from the owl's grasp and the thing made its way over to Hedwig's cage but she opened her wings and screeched at it. Pig hooted stridently in panic and went bumbling through the window. Harry couldn't keep down the surprise, relief and exhilaration that coursed through him at the sight of the parcels on his bed. He jumped up and pumped his fist into the air and shouted,  
"Yes!" before settling on his bed to open up the packages. He opened the one from Hogwarts first and five pieces of parchment fluttered onto his bed. The first one was just reminding him that he would be attending Hogwarts on September 1st as usual. The second one was a list of his spellbooks and additional requirements.  
  
YOUR LIST OF BOOKS INCLUDE:  
_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6  
_ By Miranda Goshawk  
_ Advanced Guide to Magical Theory  
_ By Adalbert Waffling  
_The Father King Edition: Encyclopedia for Unknown Plants and Fungi and their Magical Uses and Histories  
_ By Zachary Zyn  
_An Auror's Guide to Transfiguration  
_ By Emeric Switch  
_ Discreet Charms_  
By Maria Mady  
_ The Defend Yourself Edition: Magical Drafts and Potions for Experienced Wizards_  
By Arsenius Jigger  
_ Creatures Inhabiting the Deepest and Darkest Nooks_  
By Newt Scamander  
_ Controlling the Darkness_  
By Manorië Paracelsus  
_The Advanced Guide to Languages and Codes_  
By Manorië Paracelsus  
_ The Advanced Guide to Muggle Defense_  
By Manorië Paracelsus  
  
Harry stared at the list. A book for Aurors? Did all the students require these? They seemed particularly difficult. _The Advanced Guide to Magical Theory..._ He glanced at the top of the list and froze. It said: Your list of books include... It didn't say: 'Sixth-Year Book List Requirements'...or 'All Sixth-Years Must Have These Following Books'. That wasn't all that was required however. Another list was beneath the book one. Harry read it with trembling fingers.  
  
OTHER ITEMS YOU WILL NEED ARE:  
3 Sneakoscopes  
2 Foe-Glasses  
1 Invisibility Cloak (if can be attained)  
1 additional wand  
1 broom (prefer Comet Two-Sixty or a Nimbus 2001)  
3 Secrecy Sensors  
  
Harry was astounded. The school wanted him to buy Dark Arts items. He reread the list again, making sure his brain wasn't addled. _1 Invisibility Cloak..._ well, he had that, and he still had his Firebolt, the best broomstick ever made and one of his most treasured possessions. He also had the Sneakoscope Ron had given him in his fourth year. The list said he required three of them. Three! Harry could hardly contain his excitement and nervousness. He knew what this would mean but he didn't want to think about it till it was confirmed. The third piece of parchment contained his exam results. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, opened them and began to look over his scores.  
  
Exam Results for H. Potter  
  
Class, Teacher, Score, Letter Rating  
- Astronomy P. Sinistra 292% A  
- Care o. Mag. Cr. P. Hagrid/G. Plank 403% O  
- Charms P. Flitwick 407% O  
- D.A.D.A P. Umbridge 423% O  
- Divination P. Trelawney 149% D  
- Herbology P. Sprout 384% O  
- Hist. O. Mag. P. Binns 249% P  
- Potions P. Snape 323% E  
- Transfiguration P. McGonagall 345% E  
  
Average score: 331% E  
You are ranked (3) in your class.  
GRADING SCALE: 350 – 410 % = Outstanding 300 – 349 % = Excellent

250 – 299 % = Acceptable 150 – 249 % = Poor 149 % and below = Dreadful  
  
Harry fell to his knees on the floor. Okay, so he failed Divination and History of Magic. But he passed everything else. _He passed Potions with excellence_. He couldn't believe it. He just stared, trying to make the numbers move as his eyes watered, trying hard to believe what he saw and yet trying hard to believe it couldn't be true. He had passed his necessary classes with flying colours. He received a four hundred and twenty-three percent in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He felt a swelling in his heart and knew that he was so happy, so relieved. He hadn't let anyone down and most importantly, Harry thought as he reread and reread his test scores, he hadn't let himself down. And he was in the top of his class. Just like his father, Sirius and Remus. With his heart beating painfully against his ribcage, Harry picked up the two remaining pieces of parchment. The first one contained a list of job recommendations. Harry found that 'Auror: Dark Wizard Catcher' was at the top. The last piece of parchment was from Amelia Bones, the new Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.  
  
_Dr. Mr. H. Potter,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the  
following N.E.W.T level classes:  
  
Herbology  
  
Transfiguration Levels 7 and 8  
  
Charms  
Potions (though on probation)  
Care of Magical Creatures  
Defense Against the Dark Arts  
Advanced Magical Theory  
Theory of Knowledge Levels 7 and 8  
Muggle Defenses  
Arithmancy Levels 6 and 7  
  
Please be sure to notice that you are on probation for your potions class. If you wish to become an Auror, you must primarily focus on raising your Potions grade. Professor S. Snape had hereby agreed to accept you in his class due to your high average. If you find these classes are too difficult or you wish to change your mind about your career choice, please contact Professor M. McGonagall for a schedule change. Sixth-years take their apparition test. Upon arrival at the school, check your name on the list posted outside the Common rooms to find out your time and date. Remember, term starts on the first of September.  
  
Sincerely,  
Amelia J. Bones  
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister  
  
_ Harry could hardly conceal his thrill. He had noticed the part about being on probation for Potions and remembered Professor McGonagall saying last year that Professor Snape, his least favorite teacher, only accepted students who received 'Outstanding' on their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). He wasn't looking forward to Potions, but all of his other classes sounded fascinating and he couldn't wait to find out who his new teachers were. And he was ranked third – third! – in the class! He knew Hermione was ahead of him, but he vaguely wondered whom else. Harry sighed contentedly and reached for the parcel from Pig. He was astounded to find it so heavy. Eagerly, Harry ripped off the paper and gasped as a beautiful, melodramatic voice sang in a tongue he didn't recognize. It was soft and flowing, with bits of bass guitar mixed with violin and flute in the background. Or at least that's what it sounded like. As Harry finished tearing off the paper, the package grew bigger and bigger till finally— Pop! Dozens of chocolate frogs, mince pies, treacle tarts, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and candy he had never seen before spilled onto his bed along with a letter and a book. Harry's eyes glowed with all the treats that lay in front of him and he hastily picked up a Chocolate Frog, unwrapped it and took a huge bite before reaching for the letter. It was from one of his best friends, Ron Weasley.  
  
_Hey Harry!  
  
I'm sorry for not writing this summer! There's literally been nothing to write about. Mum and Dad won't let Hermione or me into the secret meetings at all and Ginny's attempts at overhearing them have been unsuccessful. You know where we are. Hermione went to Hawaii for the first three weeks of summer with her family – judging by the pictures, it was a lot of fun and very, very 'hot' outside. I wish I could have gone. Fred and George visited. They're doing a bit of work for Mum and Dad, and I daresay, they are rather pleased (and smug) about it. Fred and George always talk about doing top-secret stuff; honestly, they'd think we were stupid to ask them what they're up to. They've been doing incredibly well with the joke shop; it's the hottest place to go yet and they're putting Dervish and Bangs out of business. Charlie's working in Romania still, but I'm betting it's not about dragons this time. I heard something about vampires. Anyway, Bill's here and he brought along his girlfriend—Fleur Delacour! You'd be surprised—she's not as ditzy and full of herself as we thought. Hermione hates her. I hope you like the book and treats we sent—they're from everyone here.  
You're probably wondering when the bloody hell we're going to come and get you. Well, for safety reasons, I can't tell you the exact time or date, but it's definitely soon. We're just waiting for the, er, others to arrive. Mad-Eye should be here tonight. He's organizing the meeting. Anyway, just sit tight and we'll be there shortly! And Happy Birthday!!  
  
Your friend,  
Ron  
P.S. We got our test scores back—I averaged Acceptable and yet my top job occupations were Minister of Magic, Healer and Care of Magical Creatures teacher. A messed up list if there ever was one, but they're only supposed to be theoretical anyway. What'd you get?  
P.P.S. The song is written in old Gaelic and was sung by the most famous Animagus of our times: Arianna Shacklebolt, a direct cousin of 'our' Shacklebolt.  
_  
Harry grinned. Ron couldn't tell him anything? Well, didn't he think it risky to mention vampires? Normally, he would have been mad that they had been busy despite what Ron wrote and that they didn't include him. But he felt grateful that they were coming soon. Once again though...how soon was soon? Harry shook his head and reached for the book. It was covered with dark green leather and inscribed in the center in gold flowing letters read:  
  
** An Amateur's guide to Animagi**  
  
"Wow, Ron!" Harry whispered, flipping through the pages. Pictures of people turning into animals, of potion ingredients, of charts and diagrams raced past. Then he wondered...why would Ron suddenly send him a book on an art that takes absolute perfect to complete?  
Oh yeah, he wants me to read it and then figure out how to turn him, Hermione and me into Animagi so we can go save the world, Harry thought wildly and then realized it was something Ron would probably do.  
Harry set down the book and reached for the parcel Hedwig had carried. It was even larger than Ron's and when Harry ripped it open two large sugar-free (Hermione's parents are dentists) cakes fell neatly on the bed. After the cakes, came one long roll of parchment and two Sneakoscopes wrapped with great care in transparent tissue paper.  
Harry began to unwrap the Sneakoscopes and found that the tissue paper felt almost like glass. The touch was smooth and it shimmered and glistened when light struck it. The two Sneakoscopes stood on a point on his blanket and glistened in the dim radiance. They were beautifully made and Harry could tell that these did not come cheap. He picked up the letter and began to read.  
  
_Dear Harry,  
  
Oh, it's so wonderful to be able to write to you now! Four weeks have passed and nothing entirely eventful has happened. When term ended, I went with my parents to Hawaii. It was so beautiful there. The waters were crystal clear and the sand a pearly white. We visited the capital, Honolulu, and stayed at a luxurious resort with seventeen swimming pools! Mum bought a stunning set of encyclopedias written by dolphins! Oh, you're probably confused. America has wizards and witches, too. This was not something I read in a book. They have one school, the AAWW, the American Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it is the most remarkable building. It is located in Honolulu, of course, and with my parents, we visited the markets there and found some amazing wizarding artisans. This one man, I can't pronounce nor even begin to spell his name, showed us how the dolphins created the encyclopedias. What happens is that the dolphins talk to wizarding professionals who call themselves Communicators and they record what is said. Okay, so it sounds simple, but from an ignorant standpoint, it was rather complicated. Communicators, I read, are very rare and very gifted. They have to be skilled in Arithmancy (my favourite subject!), Potions, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Theory of Knowledge. The encyclopedias themselves are stunning pieces of artwork; they have glass covers and they appear to be translucent. But when you open them, you notice alien indentations in the pages (the pages are made of dried and bleached seaweed) and you move your hand among the indentations to read them. They are, of course, in dolphin-speak, something I'm not entirely fluent in. But I'm hoping to learn dolphin-speak when I take my Care of Magical Creatures class. I would love to learn what sort of information dolphins could tell human beings about things we could only dream about. Dolphins are known to be very wise.  
Also, while in Hawaii, I discovered the wizarding library located in the AAWW and it's enormous! It must be at least ten times larger than ours and it contains books that appear and disappear whenever you need or don't need them. All you have to do is stand in front of the section you're looking in for a particular book and think about the specific information you want to acquire and a selection of choice books will appear. Of course, there are limits, to prevent Dark penetration. Like you need a wizarding card and you have to sign a contract saying you agree to accept Veritaserum if the events require it. The Americans also have their own league against Voldemort's offenses. You'd be surprised how big the American Order is. I didn't realize that our Order contacts them frequently. Anyway, there is an exchange student program here, and I'm thinking of coming here during winter break to train with the Communicators. That is, if I pass all the tests. And I'm direly nervous; these aren't just tests from books, they deal with strength, aptitude and character. I think you'd do fine.  
By the way, did Ron introduce to you Arianna Shacklebolt? She's the latest update in music in wizarding Europe. Ron's obsessed with her, no matter how much he denies it. I also saw Bill and Fleur a few days ago. Ron may have told you that she's not ditzy. Personally, if I didn't think he had a crush on Arianna, I would've expected him to have a crush on Fleur, but she has eyes only for Bill. As for me, I still can't stand her.  
Fred and George say hi. They've been doing business for the Order, but we don't know what and they obviously won't tell us. I hope Ron didn't tell you about our speculations dealing with what Charlie is doing in Romania. Our letters could fall into the wrong hands. We'll tell you what we know when we see you. And when we see you, please get Ron's mind off Animagi. He's been obsessed with anything dealing with the art form of Animagi ever since the start of the summer. I don't know where he found this new craze, but it's driving me mad.  
I, of course, received my test results. I averaged an Outstanding, I wouldn't have expected any less. My rank is 1; Ron's not too happy with his. He's 16. He told me though that the person who placed 2 only lost to me by half a point. Well, we'll find out if that's true. What'd you get? What are your career options? I got Healer, Banker, Transfiguration Teacher, DADA Teacher, Auror and Explorer of the Underworld (a really neat occupation dealing with studying magical creatures) just to name a few of the more interesting ones. I was kind of hoping to receive Communicator on mine, but those don't show up on exam results. The Communicators are chosen. I wonder who does the choosing.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy your birthday gifts and Happy Birthday!! We will be seeing you soon, though I can't tell you how soon.  
  
Much love,  
Hermione  
  
P.S. Percy hasn't spoken to any of us all summer. I don't blame him. He's fallen a lot since the truth about Voldemort came out.  
P.P.S I thought the Sneakoscopes would come in handy, as I'm sure you'll be taking some Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. If that happens to be so, we'll have some classes together this year! When you reach your sixth year, everyone is pretty much spread out based on exam results and career choices. If you want to be an Auror, Divination is not a class you'll be taking.  
_  
Harry laughed heartily and began to breathe again. Her letter utterly fascinated him, but didn't surprise him much either. He felt proud that she was ranked 1 and he felt a bit jealous that she was able to go on vacation. At least she did something worthwhile. But once again, like Ron, she said she would see him soon, so he forgot his bitterness and just sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the book of Animagi on the floor and the letters from school and his two best friends. An abnormal sense of false security had risen over him, however, and was beginning to make him nervous. He couldn't wait till they came; the desire to leave Privet Drive reached a peak. He was wondering how and when they would come. Surely, they'd know not to use the fireplace...perhaps they'd take a Portkey? Or may the Order would apparate. Harry prayed the Dursleys would be late. He certainly wanted to be gone before they arrived.  
Harry bent over and scooped up his birthday presents and letters and walked over to Hedwig's cage, where he set them down neatly on top of his trunk. Harry fished around in his pockets and pulled out an owl treat and fed it to Hedwig who munched on it, thoroughly pleased. He ambled over to the window and looked out again.  
Funny, he thought. I'm back where I was. A raven, perched on an upstairs windowsill of Number Seven, ruffled its wing, gave a spine- tingling cry and took off through the trees and into the sky. Harry's mind wandered back to the letters and the strange sense of security he had experienced. Then he realized why he felt that: Hermione and Ron's letters both sounded happy, cheery, almost as though life were normal. Neither of them had seemed particularly worried...and that thought made Harry uneasy.  
The clouds had grown darker and the thunder was louder. Harry was quietly reassured that Hedwig had made it back to Number 4 before the storm became violent. He hoped that Pig and the tawny screech owl were okay, too. Lightning flashed followed by a deafening, rumbling boom of thunder. The gentle breeze that had whispered through his room only an hour or so ago became a wild gust of wind. Behind him, papers and quills scuttled hurriedly across the floor. Heart pounding in apprehension, Harry turned back to his bedroom in order to put away his school things before they became ruined. As he was picking up his birthday presents, lightning flashed and the house shuddered ferociously. Harry, his ears ringing, was forced to grab hold of the bedposts to steady himself. He suddenly became aware how silent the house had gone. Of course. Lightning had struck the house. The power had failed.  
A bloodcurdling scream struck the stormy air and without hesitating for the smallest fraction of a second, Harry dashed to the window and looked out across the street at the scene that lay before him.  
Tall stakes alight with fire had been placed at intervals around Number Seven's property. The flames rose into the sky, engulfing all of Number Seven from Harry's point of view. He pulled back from the window, turned to grab his wand that was lying on his bed, swung open the door, and ran as fast as he could, down the stairs and out the front door. He reached Number Seven's property in a matter of seconds and realized just how tall those fiery posts were. They towered above him, the orange and yellow flames billowing up into the stormy sky. Harry could have wrapped his arms around them and not even come close to clasping his fingers. Harry took a deep breath and ran between two of the posts when he met a great shock. Something struck his body full force and he was thrown off his feet and landed roughly into the street. His left leg suddenly felt numb and his chest ached unnecessarily. He struggled to his feet and stared at the stakes, thinking rapidly.  
Whoever had set them there must have put on a protective charm around them to prevent entry. But why? What was going on in the house of Number Seven that needed so much protection?  
Murder crossed Harry's mind. He pointed his wand between the stakes and yelled,  
"_IMPEDIMENTA!"_  
A flash of red shot out in front of him, struck a seemingly solid surface, which appeared as thin air and rebounded. Harry ducked and spun around, watching the spell hit several of Number Four's hedges. Harry ran around the perimeter of the stakes, trying the Impedimenta curse over and over and receiving the same effect. The boundaries had no weaknesses. Returning to the front of the property and heart beating achingly, he pointed his wand again.  
"_REDUCTO! REDUCTO! REDUCTO_!" he bellowed and green sparks shot forward and smashed against the protective barrier. There was a loud cracking sound that split the evening air and then the sparks shimmered away. Harry had made a hole. Limping as fast as he could, he shoved his way through the barrier, his joints and muscles throbbing with effort. Sweat beaded up on Harry's forehead from the heat of the fire. He entered Number Seven's front lawn and saw that the house was still intact. All of the windows were blocked with shutters and Harry took that as a bad sign. If someone had been by those windows and just peered through a crack in a shutter, they would've seen him and there was no way that he could be sure the house was entirely deserted.  
Breathing unevenly, he staggered toward the front door. If someone had made these stakes to prevent entry, then they must have been busy doing something and did not wish to be interrupted. A graceful movement from beside the bushes caught his attention and he stared as a little boy walked out toward him. He was small, perhaps six years old, and had light blonde hair. Well, Harry felt it was light blonde; he couldn't be a hundred percent certain for the boy was shadowy and half translucent. He wore a plaid shirt under a pair of overalls. In front of him, holding his hand as though guiding him somewhere, was Cedric Diggory. Upon seeing Harry, the little boy just looked at him as he walked around the house. He opened his mouth to talk, but when he spoke, nothing could be heard; only his mouth could be seen moving noiselessly. Misty tears streamed down the boy's cheeks as Cedric led him around the house. Cedric smiled sadly at Harry and waved, just like before and the pair continued on their ghostly path to some unknown realm. Harry made as if to go after them but he blinked and neither the little boy nor Cedric were in sight.

"Cedric!" he called hopelessly, but was only answered by the wind. That was the second time he had seen such ethereal apparitions. When the Order came to pick him up, he would have to ask them about it. He turned and headed back for the front door. Harry reached for the knob on the door but before his hand made contact with the smooth metal, the door creaked open. Glancing around warily, Harry entered, wand out, poised, ready. The house was dark and the only sounds that could be heard were the crackling of the flames and the bangs of thunder outside. A staircase spiraled upward to his left and a hall in front of him showed him the way to the kitchen. Harry placed his hands against the walls on either side, dragging himself toward the kitchen. He needed to find a clue. The wooden floor creaked beneath his heavy footfalls. Clenching his teeth, he reached the kitchen and scoured his surroundings. The patio sliding glass doors were open and he felt the wind against his face. Dull light streamed in through the kitchen windows, triggering the house to look painted with hues of blacks and grays. Where was the culprit? Harry glanced toward the dining room, saw nothing suggestive and made his way unsteadily toward the open sliding glass doors. He gripped the frames of the doors and made as if to lower himself down the one step and onto the patio when he heard rustling coming from above. Harry froze and slowly turned his head upward. Oh yes, no mistaking the grunts and groans issuing from the ceiling indicating an intruder upstairs.  
What if the intruder had left and someone was still alive? Harry turned around to face the hall in front of him that led to the front door and the staircase that now appeared on his right. If someone was still alive...still alive...that made it seem as though there had been an attack. Well, there was no doubt about that...the flaming stakes encircling the house made that apparent. But if they had been injured, would they be moving around so restlessly upstairs?  
Trying to keep his breathing low, Harry moved back toward the front door, waiting as his muscles contracted, preparing themselves for a fight. Dust sifted through the ceiling as the person upstairs paced hastily. They seemed to be drifting toward the stairs. Harry froze between the staircase and the opposite wall, having left the kitchen and dining room behind. When Harry stopped dead in his tracks, the footsteps upstairs halted. He stood there, with baited breath, eyes wide, not daring to move a single muscle. Straining his ears, Harry heard nothing save the storm and his rapid heartbeat. Nothing moved upstairs. What was going on? Had the intruder left? No, that couldn't be. Though each house was different on Privet Drive, he knew the common style was one staircase. One way down. One exit from the upstairs floor. He would've seen the intruder leave. And then an idea struck him almost as painfully as when he had been zapped backward by the shield surrounding the flaming stakes: What if there was more than one intruder there? _Another wizard_? Because it was obvious that a wizard had been there. Or was still there. A Muggle, a nonwizard would never have been able to produce the spell that guarded the house, nor been able to build spikes like that in such a short period of time. A tremor rippled down Harry's spine. Sure, he had faced Voldemort and for some reason, he hadn't really been afraid at those times. But facing two completely unknown wizards scared him more than he ever could have imagined.  
Just then Harry felt something sharp and solid hit his head.  
"Aaarrrrrrrggghhhhh!" he cried out and his knees buckled. His wand clattered to the floor. Something red and rectangular crashed to the floor near him, scraping the wood as it skidded to a stop near the front of the staircase. A searing hot pain shot through Harry's skull and stars danced in front of his eyes as they watered. Something oozed down his neck and under his shirt. He twisted around, running his hands through his hair, trying to stop the throbbing pain that overwhelmed his mind. He couldn't think. He couldn't see. He groaned in agony, running his hands over his face, trying to clear his vision. He saw, a few feet before him a brick. And a few inches to the left of that, his wand. Dazed, Harry scrambled forward on his hands knees and knees to snatch it up.  
But when he picked it up, his wand emitted a squeak and turned into a mouse that gave him a frightened look and scurried around the corner into the adjacent room. Harry stared at the place where the wand at been, confused. That was a trick Fred and George were likely to play...that fake wand might even have been theirs. For a fleeting moment, Harry suspected they were here. But why, why would the Weasley twins be here in the midst of this chaos?  
And where was his real wand? Harry turned and searched for it desperately and found it lying right in front of the stairs, not far from where the fake wand had been. Harry stretched out his arm to reach it when a loud voice roared,  
"_MORSMORDRE!"_  
A loud whooshing noise whistled passed the door and faded away. Harry's wand fell into his palm and he flipped over onto his back and pointed it at the front door.  
"Come on," Harry whispered venomously. "I dare you. Come down and fight."  
He had recognized the incantation. He had heard someone utter it at the Quidditch World Cup two summers ago. It was used to summon the Dark Mark, Lord Voldemort's symbol. He was stationary in that position, clenching his wand, back leaning against the lowest stair. He recalled, with quick thinking, what the voice sounded like. It had sounded nothing like the voice that had uttered the same incantation two summers ago. That voice had been low and harsh. No, this one sounded younger, sharper, arrogant-like. Harry racked his brain, trying to come up with ideas of who it could have been. Who did he know supported Lord Voldemort that wasn't already captured? Who did he know was powerful enough to conjure such a Dark spell?  
Turning around to grip the lowest stair, Harry scrambled to his feet, looking about the house, for he knew he was in danger. Someone powerful was here and already knew that he was here, too. Just then there was a patter of footsteps upstairs.  
"No! No, you won't have me!"  
Harry spun around and coming down the stairs, was a man dressed in a nightgown. His face was ashen and his young brown hair untidy. He had apparently been sleeping. And now he was racing clumsily down the stairs toward Harry. He spotted him and gasped,  
"Move out of my way, boy! I bet you're the mastermind behind all this! Where's my son? What'd you do with my son?!" Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the man just brushed past him and ambled for the front door.  
"_Avada Kedavra!"_  
Another man, a figure, rather, dressed in a cloak, was hurrying down the stairs. The younger man by the door started to scream. Harry raised his wand, unsure of what to do, when the flash of green light blinded him. Harry yelled, stumbled, and fell heavily against what he reckoned was a wall. He felt something whisk past him and fell flat against the wall, trying to avoid contact, trying to avoid being seen. The green light cleared and Harry saw the man lying spread-eagled on the floor. Harry, horrified, leaped over the man's lifeless body and headed toward the door where he saw the cloaked figure dashing across the lawn. He ran after him and then took a running leap. He crashed onto the lawn, earning a mouthful of grass, but he had achieved what he had wanted to do: his free hand was clasped around the cloaked figure's ankle. Cursing loudly and madly, the figure twisted and turned in anguish and frustration. Harry tried to maintain a steady hold on his wand as he prepared himself to mutter a spell.  
"AARGH!"  
The cloaked figure had wrenched his leg forward and kicked Harry in the nose. He felt blood gush down his face as the figure broke free. He pointed his wand just as the other wizard shouted,  
"_Avada keda_—"  
"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_  
The cloaked figure squatted down with haughty speed as the spell whizzed over his head and then he jumped to his feet and took off down the road. With one hand over his broken nose and the other clutching his wand, Harry stood awkwardly and tried to run down the street after the figure. A few seconds later though, Harry saw the figure vanish in mid-air. He had disapparated.  
Harry collapsed onto the hard pavement and just lay there, looking up at the malignant-looking gray clouds that shadowed the sky above. His breath came out in uneven gasps and his head throbbed with a dull pain. His eyes roved toward the house and he saw a greenish shadow lurking several yards above the roof. It was a colossal skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. It was the Dark Mark. He had only seen it once before and that was, of course, at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry vaguely recalled a conversation that had occurred two summers ago just shortly after the Dark Mark had appeared...  
_ "Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron had said impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone, why's it such a big deal?"  
"It's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," his father had answered. "And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years...of course people panicked...it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again..."  
"It's still only a shape in the sky..."  
"You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," Mr. Weasley had replied quietly. "The terror it inspired...you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about find inside...everyone's worst fear...the very worst..."  
_ Harry knew someone would come home to see the Dark Mark, but they would have no idea what had happened. This was not the wizarding world. These people had no idea wizards and witches existed...they wouldn't know what to do...they didn't know how to prepare themselves...  
He groaned in pain and felt his face gingerly. The blood was sticky, but it was drying and he grunted in frustration. ...it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it... Death Eaters...You-Know- Who's...Voldemort's...supporters...the cloaked figure had to be a Death Eater...Harry felt lightheaded, dizzy and the Dark Mark swam in front of him as the Earth seemed to be spinning a million kilometers a second. His eyes began to close slowly as the world went dim...just to rest...relax...don't fight...the last thing he saw was the glaring eyes of the serpent, sticking its tongue out at him, laughing...  
"Harry! HARRY!"  
Someone was smacking his face.  
"Noo..." he mumbled. "Go awaaay...leave me alone..."  
"Harry, you've got to wake up! We've got to get out of here!"  
It was as if everything came rushing back to him. Screams and shouts filled the air and his eyes immediately shot open. He sat up abruptly and collided with something in front of him.  
"Oof!"  
"Oh, sorry Professor." Harry hesitated, his head aching. "Professor?"  
  
It was Professor Snape. Beside him was Remus Lupin. Professor Snape glared icily at Harry and started murmuring incantations beneath his breath. Harry felt a wave of energy wash over him. The headache started to recede and when he brought his hand up to his nose, he felt that it was completely whole and clean.  
"Let's get out of here, Potter," Snape said, standing briskly. Lupin smiled down in greeting, grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to his feet. Harry froze as the scene unfolded before him. On either side of him stood Professor Snape and Lupin. But in front of him was Number Seven. The house was on fire. Several of the blazing stakes had been knocked to the ground and the flames had obviously crept up onto the house. Wizards were running amok, casting spells and it took Harry a second to realize why they were trying to defend themselves against a fire. Creatures, dark ones, were swooping all over the house, shouting at each other. The sky had grown almost black.  
"Let's get out of here, Potter! Lupin, create a Portkey! Anywhere, I don't care!" Snape started running now, leaving Harry with Lupin.  
_"Impedimenta! IMPEDIMENTA!"_ Snape cried at one of those flying creatures. Harry leaned forward, squinting and realized they were humans. Flying humans. He turned to Lupin questioningly, but the man had already bent down in front of a discarded paper cup and muttered,  
"_Portus."_ The cup glowed dimly for a few seconds and Lupin beckoned Harry over.  
"What's going on?" Harry demanded.  
"No time," Lupin responded shortly. "Now get over here; we need to leave!"  
But when Harry strained his ears, he could make out some of the things the Ministry wizards were shouting,  
"Down there! In the cellar—"  
"—I didn't—I can't—"  
"Lourdes, watch OUT!"  
"_IMPEDIMENTA!"  
"CRUCIO!"_  
Harry whipped around to see one wizard flopping madly on his back. Harry darted forward, wand raised, but Lupin grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back.  
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry! LET'S GO!"  
"What's going on?"  
"How many times do I have to tell you? THERE'S NO TIME!" Lupin was running now. The flying creatures didn't screech and squawk. Instead, Harry heard snatches of their conversations, too.  
"Stupid petty humans—"  
"—not our fault—"  
"—Dark Lord—"  
"Nati missed him, didn't you, Nati?"  
"Shut up, if it weren't for the Potter boy—"  
"Not the boy's fault—"  
Harry stared, thunderstruck. Lupin hissed at him.  
"Come on, Harry! Get a move on!" But he held up his hand and strained his ears even more.  
"We should've killed—"  
"—nonsense, we need him—"  
"—but the Dark Lord—"  
"Foolish boy."  
"Let's eat the man."  
"No! Leave him!"  
"—Voldemort is—"  
"—Potter—"  
Lupin grabbed Harry's hand and stood beside him, watching the flying creatures warily.  
"What are you doing, Harry? Let's go already!"  
"They were talking about me!" Harry protested, facing Lupin with wide eyes. "What are they? What do they want with me?" Lupin's face had suddenly lost whatever colour had been left in it.  
"You can understand them?" Harry nodded, unsure why Lupin was panicking.  
"They want to eat the man..." Lupin's eyes flashed.  
"What man? What man were they talking about? Do you know?"  
Harry shrugged.  
"The man that had been murdered." Lupin drew in a deep breath and placed both his hands on Harry's shoulders as he stared intently into his face.  
"What did you see? What happened? Who was murdered?"  
"I dunno who he was...probably the owner of this house...he came rushing down the stairs..." Harry muttered, feeling as though this were unnecessary interrogation. "Someone came down after him and killed him with the Killing Curse. I chased after the man in the cloak, grabbed his ankle, but he kicked me and he Disapparated...I dunno who he was or what he was doing..."  
Lupin sighed profoundly and his eyes darted back up into the sky, watching the flying creatures. Green, red, gold and blue sparks shot in different angles at the creatures. Harry noticed his caution and asked,  
"Remus...what, er, exactly are those things?"  
Lupin didn't answer; only watched them. He seemed to have forgotten about the Portkey or about moving. Harry stared as Professor Snape shouted some spells he'd never heard before and a monster fell from the sky, screeching in pain and writhing on the ground till it became still.  
_Pop!  
_ A wizard apparated beside Harry. With flaming red hair and a set of flashing spectacles on his nose, Mr. Weasley stood poised.  
"Mr. Weasley!" Harry said, astounded. He gave a Harry a grave grin and darted forward into the fray. Turning over his shoulder, Mr. Weasley shouted,  
"Remus, what are you waiting for? Get the boy and go!"  
Lupin seemed to come out of his trance, but as he did so, Harry felt a searing hot pain across his forehead. Harry clamped a hand over his scar and staggered backward, shouting in confusion. He couldn't see—a white agonizing bolt of fire dashed through his skull—and then he was up in the air, in the sky, watching down at the chaos below—saw Mr. Weasley collide with a creature that had been about to feast on a dead wizard—saw Kingsley, whom he hadn't spotted before, bellowing out curses at two creatures that were advancing on him—Lupin huddled over the prone figure of a boy lying on the ground—and then he suddenly spread his wings and gave a loud, bloodcurdling screech as he soared toward the unaware wizard. And then Harry realized...  
These creatures weren't at all what he had thought. They had human qualities. He noticed that. They wore regular Muggle clothing, but they had wings—huge, black, leathery rings that rose powerfully from their shoulder blades. Their skin was ashen—as white as a whiteboard and their eyes—red, gruesome eyes— their teeth—it was the teeth that got to Harry, those sharp, pointed fangs—those blood red nails, talon-like—  
Harry saw himself get to his feet and nod.  
"Run, Harry, run!" Lupin shouted and he saw himself racing toward the Portkey. He bent over to pick it up, but then he hesitated and glanced upward. His gazed met with Harry's and he felt a jolt of surprise—he was staring straight into his own eyes! And then he screamed.  
"NOOOOOOO!"  
Harry stood by the Portkey, watching as the winged-human came hurtling toward Lupin. His legs felt like lead, panic stuck his throat, he couldn't move as the thing neared Remus. Lupin raised his wand and then turned and noticed Harry just standing there, aghast with fear.  
"Take the Portkey and LEAVE! NOW!" Lupin bellowed. "They're after you!"  
But Harry couldn't just stand there. He couldn't just watch the winged-human attack his friend. Harry made his way toward Lupin when there was a flash of black robes and someone had grabbed his arm and jerked him away.  
"Foolish boy!" Snape snarled, yanking Harry along with him. "Grab the damned Portkey and leave! We'll handle this!" Harry struggled in the Professor's grip.  
"No! No! Let me go! The creature's got him! He's got him! Let me go! We gotta go save him!" Harry beat wildly and furiously. His friend was there—dying, struggling—he could see it—-feel it—-the blinding, excruciating pain—  
"Restrain yourself, Potter, or I will restrain you myself! You must grab that Portkey and leave!" Snape was grunting with the effort of holding Harry down and reaching for the Portkey and keeping his wand poised at the same time.  
"NO!" Harry yelled as the creature enveloped Lupin in its enormous wings. He could see sparks flying, but they rebounded off the monster—Lupin was in trouble—he was shouting random spells—Harry tried to point his wand, but Snape was in the way—  
"MOVE!" he bellowed, shoving Snape's arm off of him. He pointed his wand—only seconds now—  
"_Stupefy! STUPEFY_!" His aim went askew as Snape grabbed him again, and thrust the Portkey into his hand. Harry tried to struggle, tried to drop the Portkey, but he already felt his feet being lifted off the ground. He felt that familiar jerk behind his naval and saw the grounded swirling away—saw the winged-human leaning in for its last attack— "NOOOO!" Harry cried out, tears blurring his vision, voice choked with dread. He saw the other wizards racing about, shouting Killing and Stunning Curses...Kingsley was down, but another wizard, Dawlish, he assumed, bent down to help him. Snape was waving his wand frantically, face distorted with effort and power as he tried to kill the winged-creature in front of him—flames licked the now night sky—and yet one particular wizard was completely block from view. The sun's rays suddenly pierced the clouds and they began to depart. As the world dimmed and faded, Harry screamed, "REMUS!"

And then it began to rain.


End file.
